Skavenblight Clanrat Life
by MA7
Summary: A far too close look at the comically absurd (and disgusting) daily lives of skaven clanrats in Clan Scattsnack, arguably the weakest clan in the whole of Skavenblight. Struggling to survive as a literal bottom feeder has never been funnier as the clanrats deal with Clan Eshin wannabes, "romancing" breeders, bullying runts, and finding truly disgusting dinner.
1. Chapter 1

Skavenblight Clanrat Life

Chapter 1(Rat)

Deep underground in the muck and filth of the shittier districts of Skavenblight, a modestly small group of a "mere" few thousand scrawny grubby skaven clan rats sloshed through the partially flooded tunnels immediately surrounding their own clan burrow, marching off to find food.

Scabscratch the clanrat pushed his rotting crude wooden wheelbarrow through the reeking mud of the burrow floor, surrounded by the reassuring smell of thousands of his fellow clanrats.

Scabscratch was hungry, *very-very* hungry, but food-food would soon be his for the taking, *lots* of food-food!

Scabscratch was 6 years and 7 months old, average age for a clanrat in these weak lesser clans, and was a born member of the good-marvellous illustrious-good Clan Scattsnack, the best-excellent Clan that was merely-only temporary-short time embarrassed not for long!

Clan Scattsnack were the best Clan that had ever existed, though other cruel-evil skaven pretended they had never even heard of it. Clan Scattsnack were genius-smart in the fine-esteemed art of dropping-shit shovelling! It was truly a respectable-lauded profession!

Clan Scattsnack shovelled up droppings-shit that idiot-fools of other clans just left lying around as though it was bad-worthless! The other Clans were fools-stupid, they not know the value-worth of poo-scat!

Clan Scattsnack were not fools-idiots, they were the best clan, and their shit shovelling skills would make them rule the universe! The entire world would be in awe-wonder of how well-good they shovelled the shit-poo!

Scabscratch nodded proudly to himself at this very good-true thought, and pushed harder on his crude wheelbarrow to reach the scat faster.

The clan rats of Clan Scattsnack all wore the good-excellent armour and equipment of their esteemed clan.

Over their left arms were slung crude wooden buckets that doubled as shields, over their backs were slung long sharp poo shovels with small-tiny rusty shovel-spade heads and worn rickety thin wooden handles, doubling as spears. Over their chests were slung a putrid collection of filthy scratched battered metal scat pans and rusty metal ring poo nets with bits of poo-shit stuck in them, that doubled as crude armour. The clan rats all looked so good-fine Scabscratch thought to himself.

The teeming hoard of scrawny clan rats moved through the disgusting shoddily dug tunnels under Skavenblight like a swarm of locusts, greedily shovelling up every dropping they encountered.

Skavenblight had no sewerage system of any kind, and had easily the largest population of any city in the world, it was desperately overcrowded, and the combined result was that the place was almost drowning in its own shit. The tunnels were like sewers, choked with waste and effluent, the smell was quite indescribable.

In front of Scabscratch's scrawny hoard of verminous comrades the tunnels were completely choked in over a foot deep of putrid skaven droppings, in the wake of these clan rats the tunnels were shovelled clean of every last trace of turds, the stone of the tunnel floors scraped and scoured down to the bare stone, vastly improving the hygiene.

The mass of clan rats headed upwards, towards the modestly more affluent Clans of these poverty stricken lower levels of Skavenblight, searching for richer droppings than the tiny turds of the half starving of the lower level weakest Clans.

Clan Scattsnack was weak, even by the standards of the weak clans in the horrible lower levels of Skavenblight, but the clan rats knew that this was only a "temporary" state of affairs for this greatest clan ever. Other mean-evil clans conducted constant slave raids into clan Scattsnack burrow territory, abducting clan members by the thousands to sell in the slave markets, and stealing so-so much of the clan's things-stuff!

Clan Scattsnack had only one thing in abundance, lots and lots and *lots* of (rather scrawny) clan rats and (rather hideously ugly) female-breeders. Everything else was in very short supply, but they had so *so* many new clan members being born all the time that they were able to (barely) survive the constant slaver raids by stronger clans.

The mass of weedy shit rats headed upwards, stripping away astonishing quantities of shit as they moved, wheelbarrows piling up high. They were determined to get some decent shit if possible before their barrows were full, shit with more grain in it that could be milled into bread and eaten a second time.

In a clan so poor that they subsisted on "second hand" food, absolutely nothing was wasted. Every single part of the droppings was used for something. The grain and other undigested foods would be panned and sifted out, washed (slightly) clean in (filthy) water, put in harsh caustic (and very cheap) salty brine to kill-slay the nasty germs, and then would be ground into flour and baked into bread.

After the edibles were salvaged from the poo, the remainder would be carefully sifted through and divided up by nutrient content. High nutrient portions were used to grow (small and weedy) mushrooms, low nutrient bits were used for tanning (extremely cheap quality) skaven skin leather in (revolting) skaven tanning pools. The mushrooms were then eaten or sometimes sold, and the leather was mostly sold as the clan's primary source of money income. (For some reason no other clans were very keen-interested in buying the second hand grain-food).

Between these three main uses of this poo, clan Scattsnack was able to claw out a meagre survival from nothing but shit. No one lived very long lives for some strange reason, clan rats got sick-ill and died-killed at a young age, but at least the younger rats got to then keep all their neat-useful stuff like these shovel-spears, scat pan-armour, bucket-shields and wheelbarrows. These neat-good things passed down from generation to generation, so that the clan only very rarely bought new stuff.

Scabscratch and his massive hoard of shit stained comrades cautiously came to a modestly more affluent clan burrow entrance and paused, sniffing the air.

A pair of lean clan rats in strange intricate lacquered scale mail darted out of the shadows to stand in the burrow entrance, and held out exotic long bladed spears to bar their way.

"This-this is the burrow-dojo of the glorious-honourable Clan Weeaboo, pending thrall clan to the esteemed Clan Eshin!" One of the clan rats squeaked authoritatively in an appallingly racist imitation of an Asian Skaven accent.

"Ah... "Pending" Thrall Clan?, What is a "Pending" Thrall Clan, I never hear-learn about that," Scabscratch asked the Clan Weeaboo clan rats in confusion.

"Ah... Well we ask-beg Clan Eshin to let us become-be one of their Thrall Clans... Clan Eshin was ah... They politely told-tell us we is-are not Asian and called us "Weeaboo", and they say-squeak that they are-is not wanting-needing our services as thralls at this time... So we changed our clan name to "Clan Weeaboo" as they honourable call us and we are waiting-waiting till they want-need us as a thrall clan... It is pending-pending," the Weeaboo clan rats explained cheerfully.

The hoard of clan Scattsnack nodded awkwardly.

"What is your business with clan Weeaboo?," the clan rat guards demanded after a pause.

"We offer-give free dung-scat removal, we are clan Scattsnack," Scabscratch explained proudly.

"Ah, you are those shit eaters... Yes-yes come in please, our burrow needs scrub-clean," the Weeaboo clan rats said eagerly.

The Scattsnack clan rats chittered happily and surged into the burrow by the thousands, looking for the choicest scat to add to their wheelbarrows.

Scabscratch was very impressed as he pushed his overloaded wheelbarrow through this affluent burrow, none of the tunnels were flooded at all, and they seemed to have decorated the walls with panels and artworks depicting the Far East. The clan rats of this clan were all exactly the same old world ethnic group as clan Scattsnack, but they all dressed like they were Asian Skaven and spoke in appalling imitations of a clan Eshin accent.

It was very weird-strange...

The clan Scattsnack clan rats were now in a giant central cavern shovelling up huge piles of dung, it was so good-rich with embedded black corn grains!

Without warning the air echoed with the blaring techno racket-sound of a warp stone music box playing Eshin-Pop!

"Geureon sanai

Areumdawo sarangseureowo

Geurae neo, hey, geurae baro neo, hey

Areumdawo sarangseureowo

Geurae neo, hey, geurae baro neo, hey

Jigeumbuteo gal dekkaji gabolkka

Oppa Eshin Style

Eshin Style

Op, op, op, op

Oppa Eshin Style

Eh, sexy breeder!

Op, op, op, op

Oppa Eshin Style"

The clan Scattsnack clan rats all covered their ears against this appalling racket! What the hell-fuck was this rubbish-crap?!

The sound was getting closer-louder now!

The clan Scattsnack clan rats watched in dismay as the black furred warlord of clan Weeaboo entered the cavern, holding aloft a blaring enchanted warp stone music box playing this awful-bad racket-noise. The warlord was surrounded by really weird looking storm vermin wearing Asian armour and holding Asian weapons.

Before the Scattsnack clan rats could react the warlord and his storm vermin all began a ridiculous choreographed dance to the Eshin-Pop music! What the heck were they doing?!

"Hey, sexy breeder!

Op, op, op, op

Oppa Eshin Style!"

The Weeaboo storm vermin were all dancing around like they were retarded-spastic or something!

Scabscratch sniffed the air... He suddenly got excited! He could smell breeders!

A pair of *gorgeous* young 10 foot long bare-naked females-breeders, with their fur dyed lurid bright pink, were led into the cavern towards the dancing warlord by a squad of storm vermin. These breeders were in heat!

"Oppa Eshin Style..."

The two breeders twitched their pink whiskers, and then suddenly started to dance just like the other spastic-fools! The warlord had trained-taught these breeders to dance on command!

"Ttwineun nom geu wie naneun nom

Baby, baby

Naneun mwol jom aneun nom

Ttwineun nom geu wie naneun nom

Baby, baby

Naneun mwol jom aneun nom

You know what I'm saying

Oppa Eshin Style

Eh-eh-eh, eh-eh-eh

Eh, sexy breeder

Op, op, op, op

Oppa Eshin Style"

The breeders were gyrating around on four legs as the warlord circled around them in his retarded-idiot dancing, the clan Scattsnack clan rats watched the spectacle transfixed.

The two breeders were kissing the warlord's cheeks as he danced on the spot hyperactively, techno Eshin-Pop still blaring loudly.

Scabscratch just watched, his mouth open in astonishment. This was strangely wonderful to watch.

The warlord vaulted onto the back of one of the breeders, and she danced around joyfully to the music, clearly enjoying herself. Scabscratch had never seen a breeder just frolic around and have fun like this, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Scrawny bodies were suddenly joining the spastic dancing storm vermin around the two breeders, some of the clan Scattsnack clan rats were joining the dancing!

"Hey, sexy breeder!

Op, op, op, op

Oppa Eshin Style!"

Thousands of clan rats were now dancing around these gorgeous breeders, enticed to join in the frivolities by the intoxicating smell of these young breeders in heat.

Scabscratch and the other more cautious members of the group stayed with the parked wheelbarrows, and watched from the distance as the revellers continued to dance around these happy frolicking young breeders.

"Oppa Eshin Style," the song suddenly ended and the idiots stopped dancing.

A new blaring Eshin-Pop song then blasted out of the music box, and the idiot-fools and breeders were dancing once again...

This might be a long-lengthy stay...

***...

The fool-idiot clan rats were still singing the Eshin-Pop songs to themselves as the clan Scattsnack clan rats regretfully left the burrow of clan Weeaboo, wheelbarrows now filled to overflowing with shit.

They had spent the entire day dancing around to Eshin-Pop with "Warlord-Shogun Baka Weeaboo", ("Baka" was apparently a term of *extreme-high* honour in Japanese that Clan Eshin had personally recommended the warlord to change his name to), and his "Skamurai" storm vermin, enjoying the dancing company of "Lala" and "Momo" the specially trained dancing breeders.

Shogun-Warlord Baka had been wise-clever enough not to harm-hurt the clan Scattsnack poo rats who were cleaning his burrow for free-free. Few-not many clans ever enslaved or attacked thousands of poo rats that were already inside their own burrow providing free shit-poo removal, sometimes they would attack-enslave the poo rats at other times-places, but not inside the attacking clan's own burrows. If they did-did then the poo rats never come back to clean-shovel for free, and the bad-evil clan would have to constantly pricy-expensive shovel-clean their own burrows themselves, with lots-lots of skaven slaves who could otherwise be doing something else more profitable-useful instead.

The poo rats of clan Scattsnack were one of few-not many clans who (freely) kept Skavenblight from drowning in it's own shit, and most clans actually appreciate-like the free burrow cleaning service enough to welcome-welcome them in with open paws. *Most* poo rats were wise-sensible enough not to do theft-mischief in other burrows, most... The few idiot-fools usually got eaten-died...

The clan Scattsnack clan rats were extremely impressed by the earlier reception at the impressive-wonderful clan Weeaboo, apparently *anyone* could just be Asian if they wanted to, even if they were old world skaven! The Clan Scattsnack clan rats were even now considering becoming Asian too, apparently Clan Eshin was *really* impressed-pleased when people did this!

Scabscratch was personally not sure-certain about this, but he had certainly been impressed by those two dancing pink furred young breeders Lala and Momo.

The two breeders had been raised-trained from runt-childhood to dance like this, apparently something Clan Eshin did with some of their own breeders. These two had been given Japanese female names, (despite being not even slightly Asian), and had been very carefully kept as virgins, so that they were *always* on heat, giving them that wonderful smell that made them so pleasant to be around.

The two breeders would never be used for breeding, at least not until they were older and less attractive, they existed solely for entertainment, frolicking and dancing around every day to Eshin-Pop, with that intoxicating virgin on heat smell. The punishment for mating with these breeders was apparently *so* horrific that no one had dared to ever mate with them, even when they were so sexy-desirable!

This made Scabscratch sad, he would very much-much like-love to mate with those breeders! In fact-fact, Scabscratch thought-suspected that he was in love-love! Such remarkable sexy-beautiful breeders! Yes-yes, he wanted Lala and Momo all for himself!

"I am in love-love with those two breeders," a completely different nearby male skaven clan rat chittered, sounding smitten and lovesick!

"They're *mine-mine*!" Another random skaven raged and stabbed the first skaven to death through the back with a shovel-spear!

"I alone love Lala and Momo! They are meant-destined to be with *me*!" The murderer chittered in jealous rage.

"No-no! *I* am the one in love-love with Momo and Lala!" Another different skaven snarled and tried to stab the other one!

Hundreds of skaven were now snarling in jealous outrage and proclaiming that *they alone* were the true love of the two dancing breeders.

Scabscratch wisely did not tell them that actually *he* was the one who loved Lala and Momo, and simply hid under his bucket shield, as hundreds of clan Scattsnack clan rats killed each other in a vicious frenzy over who *really* loved the two breeders.

A lot-lot of murders later, the survivors greedily skinned the bodies and ate-fed on their dead-stabbed fellow clan rats, gnawing on the small amount of scrawny thin meat and then on the bones and guts, stripping the bodies down completely until nothing but teeth and valuable-useful skins remained.

The survivors were mostly those-wise clever enough not to say-squeak anything about the two breeders, and these wise-clever rats gathered up the belongings of the dead, leaving only the surplus overloaded wheelbarrows which they would return for later.

The badly decimated hoard of clan rats pushed their towering overloaded wheelbarrows back to their own putrid burrow, and entered the flooded nightmare that was the clan Scattsnack burrow warren.

Scabscratch twitched his nose against the horrific-terrible smells, as he very carefully pushed his wheelbarrow over the crude scaffold of worn old wooden planks and rotting wooden poles, that poked up above the loathsome stagnant water that eternally flooded the bottom half of almost all the tunnels and caverns in the entire burrow.

The scaffolding creaked under the weight of thousands of overloaded wheelbarrows, crude baskets of shit growing mushrooms swinging softly where they hung below the scaffolding just above the water level.

The rickety scaffolding was desperately overcrowded with underfed skaven and sickly runts, squatting and crouching anywhere on the scaffold frame that had room for them, trying desperately not to fall off into the stagnant filth below them.

The putrid water was divided by rotten wooden dams-dykes into separate "ponds", and all was used-used for tanning skaven hides into leather.

Some ponds had lots-heaps of (very cheap-cheap) caustic lime, making horrible-bad caustic puddles of death-pain that stripped the fur and fat from the many-many skins soaking in them.

Other "ponds" were almost pure sewerage, festering pools of foulness into which was dumped the portions of droppings-shit too nutrient poor to even grow mushrooms. These ponds stank-reeked bad-awful, and were filled with hides that had already had the fat and fur removed, used to complete the tanning process.

The shit-poo mostly rotted away to nothing in these awful pools, and the remaining sediment was daily dredged up, and carted off in wheelbarrows to be dumped far away up on the surface into the blighted marshes that surrounded Skavenblight.

This was said-squeaked to return nutrients to the swamp mud of the black corn growing marshes, cycling-giving the nutrients back-back to keep growing lots-lots of corn forever to feed Skavenblight.

Clan Scattsnack had a thankless role-position, but without them the black corn harvests would dwindle and the city would drown in its own shit-scat!

Scabscratch pushed his wheelbarrow past hundreds of quite amazingly ugly sick looking breeders, filthy scrawny things laying on rickety plank platforms, suckling huge litters of small and sickly runts.

Scabscratch shuddered at the sight of these grotesquely ugly sick breeders, they were nothing at all like the *gorgeous* loves of his life Lala and Momo!

Even as he watched, horny malnourished clan rats who hadn't joined the scavenging party were feverishly mating with these disgusting breeders. Clan Scattsnack was too poor to maintain enough dedicated troops to even police mating access to the majority of the breeders, and everyone could just freely help themselves!

These poor-dismayed breeders looked perpetually overwhelmed by all the different skaven constantly mating with them, even-even when they weren't in season! It really was a bad-awful anarchy-chaos at the moment-moment!

The army of wheelbarrow pushing shit rats spread out across the sprawling poorly planned maze of scaffolding in the crazy tangle of flooded tunnels and caverns, trying to just find a space somewhere to park their wheelbarrows and pan-sort through their hoard of precious scat-poo.

Space on the scaffolding was in short supply, and the clan rats used their spear-shovels to viciously evict runts to make room, sending hundreds of runts splashing down into the vile ponds below.

Scabscratch and a group of others entered big-big scaffold section in a giant central flooded cavern that the clan leader, Warlord Cack Scattsnack, had claimed as his own home.

The home of Warlord Cack was the same as everywhere else, only much wider, a vast platform of ancient looking mildewed wooden planks on a scaffold made of long thinnish logs lashed together with festering ropes.

The large platform had a surplus of (very slightly) less ugly breeders for the pleasure of the (rather scrawny) Warlord and his (even scrawnier) bodyguards. The bodyguards were not what other clans would actually call-name "storm vermin", being too weedy and lacking black fur, they were only distinguishable from the normal clan rats because their "armour" had a lot more scat pans lashed to it, providing slightly better protection. (They also wielded slightly bigger shovels).

Scabscratch still thought the bodyguards looked good-nice...

Other wheelbarrow pushers had already reached the Warlord first and were excitedly squeaking about Clan Weeaboo and the dancing breeders. Scabscratch ignored them and looked for a spot to occupy.

Scabscratch evicted a gaggle of runts down into the pond below with his shovel-spear, and parked his wheelbarrow next to the edge of the platform. He immediately got to work sorting through his barrow load of droppings, only slightly paying attention to the other clan rats reporting the day's events to Warlord Cack.

Scabscratch lowered his bucket-shield into the filth of the pond below, lifting it up half filled with something which might (generously) be called "water".

Scabscratch cautiously disassembled his hodgepodge of "armour", taking out his precious (very cheap and nasty) rusty metal scat pans and his small poo nets of (shoddy) wire rings.

Scabscratch used a filthy scat stick hanging by a frayed string from his worn old waist belt, and used it to poke some scat into his main scat pan.

Scabscratch used a tiny amount of water from his bucket to wet the contents of his pan, and sloshed them around until they liquified, releasing any grains they contained.

Scabscratch jealously snatched up the grains with his bare hands, pocketing the precious shit soiled grains in a small leather belt pouch before anyone could steal-swipe it.

When the pan contents were completely picked clean, Scabscratch got a filthy square scrap of threadbare weaved rag from a belt pouch and laid it carefully over the ring mesh of a poo net stretched tightly over a crude frame of old sticks. He then very carefully poured the remaining scat pan contents onto the rag covered poo net over the bucket, filtering out all the solids from the liquid.

The solids were then carefully placed on the platform floor on top of a second scat pan beside Scabscratch, just for somewhere to put them, and Scabscratch repeated the process with fresh droppings.

It was a long and messy-disgusting process, but in the end Scabscratch had a meagre pouch full of "second hand" grain, and he had divided the rest of the wheelbarrow contents into two halves inside the barrow, (using his shield-bucket sitting in between the two piles to keep them separated).

Scabscratch hefted his wheelbarrow and headed hopefully towards one of the innumerable "scat buyers" that were spread throughout the burrow, clan rats who worked directly for one of the Warlord's many chieftains that organised the scat processing for making mushrooms and leather.

Scabscratch pushed and shoved with his wheelbarrow to reach a scat buyer, and began the process of furious haggling over his hoard of scat and his tiny clutch of grain. For his efforts he was paid just enough mushrooms and black bread to (meagrely) survive for another few hours, forcing him to leave-go again on the immediate next poo scavenging hoard to collect yet more scat-poo!

This was clan rat life in Clan Scattsnack, the poo harvesting trips never ended, to get enough food-food to survive the whole day you had to work-toil much-much to scrape out a living!

Clan Scattsnack had no skaven slaves as such, the skaven got sick-ill and died so much that they needed every adult male just to be clan rats to replace all the losses. Metal was too expensive-precious in this poor clan to waste on slave shackles, and they had no room for slave pens.

All the really bad-awful jobs slaves might usually do were mostly given to the (badly bullied and beaten) weened male runts in clan Scattsnack, and those male runts who survived to adulthood were automatically clan rats. Much less than half the runts survived to adulthood, most got sick-ill and died.

Scabscratch paused in his barrow pushing toils to briefly mate-fuck with one of the ugly breeders in heat, she was ugly-bad but it still felt good-nice to mate with a female. The Warlord lacked enough military grade forces to control access to the majority of the breeders, one of the perks of living in a weakest clan, giving the clan rats unprecedented amounts of mating access, (a rare privilege for only the strongest in most clans).

It was good-nice for Scabscratch, but it was probably why the clan rats were so weedy and weak. In most clans only the strongest mated with females, making the clans stronger. In clan Scattsnack *everyone* mated with the females, even the weak, and the resulting litters of runts were poor-bad...

Scabscratch pushed his empty wheelbarrow out to join the latest poo harvesting group, and the group headed *very* excitedly-eagerly towards the burrow of the wonderful Clan Weeaboo, where the girl's of their dreams-fantasies Lala and Momo danced...

Scabscratch felt all gooey-romantic, he really was in love.

He didn't know how, but somehow he would fulfil the fated true love the great Horned Rat had destined him for, and claim-mate with his true loves Lala and Momo the pink furred dancing virgin breeders! No one could stop their destined love-romance!

***...

(To hopefully be continued)


	2. Chapter 2 bad-evil slaver raid

Chapter 2(Rat)

Runts and breeders screamed in terror as the sounds of battle-fight raged all around Scabscratch in the burrow warren of clan Scattsnack.

The bad-evil slavers of Clan Veek were conducting yet another bad-awful slave raid!

Scabscratch hefted his shovel-spear and held up his bucket-shield, and very bravely stayed as far away from the invading slavers as possible.

In the far distance down the tunnel he could see-spy the big-strong skaven of Clan Veek, bludgeoning clan Scattsnack skaven into submission with huge wooden clubs wrapped in leather to not kill-slay.

Weak-weedy clan Scattsnack clan rats were holding their bleeding snouts in dismay from these brutal club blows, stunned by the savage violence vested on their poor-unfortunate heads.

The burly bad-evil club rats of Clan Veek were grabbing up these stunned-dismayed adult Scattsnack skaven males, and forcing cruel shackle-chains on their limbs, chaining the victim-prisoners together in huge groups as other club rats bludgeoned more Scattsnack rats into submission.

The runts were mostly being ignored by the club rats, except for the bigger ones near adulthood, the smaller runts weren't worth much in the slave markets until they were bigger, was a waste of food-time to take them.

The breeders were of great interest to the club rats, but they weren't so easy to move-shift. The breeders were scrawny for breeders, but still ten foot tall and heavy-big. They not like-want to leave the familiar smell of their nesting areas, and bludgeoning them just made them flop down stunned, making them even heavier to drag away.

The club rats were still trying-attempting to steal-swipe the breeders they found, they just were not able to move more than a few-few of the smaller ones, the rest-rest were too big-large.

The evil-wicked invaders simply mate-rape with the breeders they couldn't shift-move, and focused their attentions on enslaving the smaller adult males.

The brave-courageous clanrats of clan Scattsnack heroically pulled away the planks leading to their own sections of scaffolding, so that the wicked-evil invaders would get wet-soaked in the dangerous tanning ponds if they attacked the platforms.

The club rats had thought-think of this and simply had some planks of their own to reach-bridge!

The musk of fear filled the burrow now as the bad-evil slavers advanced, and desperate malnourished Scattsnack clanrats held forward their rusty shovel-spears in a thick mass of putrid spikes, stabbing at the air between them and the slavers.

The clan Veek club rats were near Scabscratch's own platform location now! Other coward-craven rats had taken away the planks behind him to let Scabscratch flee-run!

Scabscratch and the other cornered rats squeaked viciously, black adrenaline pumping through their wasted scrawny bodies as they stabbed the air in warning.

The invading club rats were big-large, well fed, and had black fur! They were storm vermin! Thick muscles bulged on their limbs, their shoulders were huge-broad, and they wore full body Bretonnian style plate mail and open faced helmets, all painted blood red and festooned all over with rune-symbols of Clan Veek!

The storm vermin had brutal halberds slung over their backs, and long swords scabbarded at their belts, but they were currently wielding massive-heavy single handed wooden clubs wrapped thickly all over their lengths with leather ribbons, so that they stunned rather than kill-slay.

The clan Veek club rats reached the edge of the gap between the two scaffolding platforms, a deep-deep pond of fur-fat eating caustic watery lime slurry filling the gap bottom, promising pain-death to any who fell in.

The club rats paused, looking at the lime pond cautiously. If they fell in that it would hurt-burn for a week at least, assuming they climbed out again in their heavy armour without drowning. The club rats were understandably concerned.

Runts with slings on Scabscratch's platform started pelting the club rats with rocks, causing them to take defensive poses as rocks cracked off their armour with great force from the slings.

A club rat suddenly fell down dead-slain as a fist sized rock from a sling split his head open all the way to the brain!

The Scattsnack skaven chittered in glee, and the rock pelting got more enthusiastic, rocks raining off the club rat's armour in a frenzy of flying stone.

More club rats died from the impressive fusillade of rocks, and the survivors angrily grabbed a plank and attempted to bridge the gap.

The air above the plank was thick with spear points as the plank was laid over the gap, and the club rats attempted to cross the plank.

Scabscratch screamed with adrenaline and stabbed at the club rat with a frenzy of jabs. Dozens of fellow clan rats did the same, and the sheer mass of spears on his armour pushed the club rat off the plank into the pond with a huge splash.

The heavily armoured club rat didn't resurface, held down under by his armour to drown-die!

The other club rats paused at this, none wanting to drown like the first, and an uneasy standoff began.

Sling rocks continued to pelt the bad-evil club rats, and more were kill-slain by fist sized rocks splitting open skulls through gaps in the helmets.

The club rats squeaked angrily and attempted to barrel over the plank in a huge mass.

The clan rats viciously stabbed with their spears, adrenaline racing, and three club rats fell down to the plank dead-slain from gaps in their armour.

The surviving club rats fell upon the clan rats with their brutal clubs, stunning several, and the desperate cornered clan rats struck back with their spears, cornered terror making them fight with extreme viciousness.

More club rats were stabbed to death, and the remaining club rats were mostly on the plank now or on the other platform, driven back by the frenzy of spear thrusts.

The plank was piled up with several armoured dead bodies now, plus even more live bodies, the club rats were struggling to keep their footing as the spears tried to unbalance them.

CRACK SPLASH!

The plank had suddenly snapped under the weight and dunked all the club rats on it into the pond! The dunked club rats never surfaced, drowning in their heavy armour.

The surviving club rats on the far platform from Scabscratch gazed at the pond in dismay, and the musk of fear sprayed under their tails. They were pulling back!

The club rats were leaving the burrow now, leading away many-many thousands of chained scrawny Scattsnack clan rats. They had gotten what they came for and were leaving before the casualties got too high-big.

Scabscratch and the other Scattsnack skaven chittered in "victory" at having "won" this battle, and laughed at the bad-evil slavers as they left-fled.

When the smallest runt lookouts that the slavers hadn't wanted confirmed for the clan that the invaders had definitely gone-left, the clan rats returned all the planks and eagerly got to work fishing out the drowned club rats with ropes and poles.

The fur of the bodies was already starting to fall out from the extremely caustic lime water when they lifted the bodies up onto the scaffold, the red armour paint was also starting to thin-vanish from the bad-caustic lime.

Scabscratch was *starving* with the dreaded "black hunger" after his adrenaline rush and exertion, and he frantically ate half the burly muscular arm of a club rat body the moment it was skinned. Other skaven were also starving with the black hunger, and the feeding frenzy over the club rat bodies was extremely desperate and vicious.

When everyone (important) had feast-ate from the bodies, they all greedily squabbled over the neat-good things-stuff the body had carried, like weapons and armour.

Scabscratch joined in the squabbling and made off with a good-neat metal gauntlet for his right paw-hand! Scabscratch gleefully washed the caustic-bad lime away with filthy dung water, and put the (slightly too big) gauntlet on his right hand, and used buckles-straps to fasten it on his hand!

Scabscratch admired his new gauntlet. It was plate mail and human made, with individual fingers wrapped in steel and with those iconic Bretonnian flower symbols crafted into the metal, with subsequent Clan Veek symbols scratched all over it.

Long ago in history it had certainly belonged to some Bretonnian knight errant, as the entire armour suit had lacked any engraved coat of arms, probably some fool-idiot knight errant who attacked Clan Veek back during the bad-awful wars that defeated-drove away Clan Veek from their former burrow in the Pale Sisters mountain range.

Those wicked-evil greedy-selfish Bretonnian knights errant had ruined-spoiled *everything* for the poor innocent poo rats by driving out the strong Clan Veek! Selfish-greedy humans!

In the past-past Clan Veek had been a clan of cheese makers and farmers, living in an unoccupied isolated area of the Pale Sisters mountains in the wilderness of north east Bretonnia. For hundreds of years the cheese makers of Clan Veek had tended magnificent grass pastures for their dairy animals. They had spent centuries fertilising the soils with saltpetre and ash, dung and compost, making the soils ever deeper, ever richer, the envy of pastures anywhere.

Clan Veek had kept to themselves, tending their herds and making their cheese, making hey and collecting animal fodder, exporting lots-lots of good food to the rest of the hungry Skaven race. Just minding their own business.

Then the greedy-evil humans had come...

The Bretonnia knights already possessed over 90 percent of the entire land of Bretonnia, big-big areas far bigger than the Skaven got to farm, but the greedy villains had still wanted to take-steal what little farm lands the Skaven had!

Endless armies of knights errant had invaded the pastures of Clan Veek, trying to take-steal it for their own new fiefdoms. So-so many evil-bad knights!

Clan Veek had defended their long tended pastures, in *hundreds* of different battles against endless new waves of knights errant attempting to claim the lands for their errant of knighthood, so *so* much war against the gentle-innocent cheese makers!

The wars had changed Clan Veek, to survive they became more warlike, they became more ruthless, better more hardened fighters. Their storm vermin donned the suits of armour looted from the dead knights errant, and became expert-deadly knight slayers.

It was said-squeaked that they used huge regiments of skaven slaves to blunt the charges of the knights errant, and then strike them with an ambush counter charge from the armoured storm vermin, using halberds to slash the knights from their horses in bad-brutal melee combat!

Scabscratch couldn't imagine being so strong-powerful as being able to defeat a mounted knight man in combat, but these fearsome Clan Veek storm vermin infamously came to specialise in this-this!

It had taken years-years of bitter-bad fighting, but eventually the greedy evil-bad humans had stolen the entire pasture Clan Veek spent centuries fertilising, driving the now battle hardened and deadly Clan Veek armies from their ancestral home.

The Clan Veek knight slayers had had no where better to go, so these violent psychopaths came-went to Skavenblight as their new home!

Clan Veek were now so deranged and war hungry from all their battles that they had never stopped fighting since they arrived, they become-be slavers as their new form of income, invading weak-innocent poo rats and other bottom feeders, enslaving thousands of captives to sell in the slave markets!

The evil-bad humans had done such bad-awful harm with their greed for more land! The world had finite land, expanding to take more was just stealing it from some other race. The knights think they good-honourable, but they really just racist-greedy, turning gentle cheese makers into battle hardened burly-big psychopaths.

Humans were the most bad-awful race in the entire old world, they had *so* much-much of the land for themselves, but they still always wanted even more at the expense of everyone else! Wicked-evil-selfish creatures, causing so much pain and horror to poor struggling poo rats who just wanted to survive!

Scabscratch spat in disgust, humans really were bad-awful creatures!

At least they made nice gauntlets...

***...

The poo smeared Warlord Cack Scattsnack, leader of Clan Scattsnack, twitched his whiskers anxiously as he stood with his many subordinate chieftains in the aftermath of the latest attack-raid, the attacks were getting both worse and more common recently.

Clan Scattsnack was weak-weak, and in Skavenblight the weak clans were preyed upon by the stronger clans for easy-fast profits as slaves. Never ever had a single week gone past without at least one slave raid against poor-innocent Clan Scattsnack, it was normal-boring event.

The clan was resolved-used to these ordinary slave raids, it didn't bother-offend them when other clans raid them once or twice a week and enslaved-stole a few hundred clan rats each time, that wasn't rude-unusual. But the wicked-bad Clan Veek was doing it *too* much-bad!

Almost every single *day* the bad-horrible Clan Veek raided their burrow now, and they take-steal *thousands* each time and even steal-take the young breeders they find! If they take this many each day and take the next generation of breeders too, Clan Scattsnack would not survive-live!

Clan Scattsnack were numerous-many, but not *that* numerous that they could lose thousands of adults every day like this! The clan would not survive much more than a year at this rate.

Warlord Cack was very worried-concerned, he not want to be enslaved or killed-slain. If his clan died then he died too, this was bad-awful!

Warlord Cack was the biggest-strongest fighter in the entire clan, but he was barely bigger than the average clanrat of a stronger clan like Clan Skab or Clan Weeaboo. He was also not the smartest-cleverest of Skaven in Skavenblight, he was no genius like Ikit Claw or Grey Seer Thanquol.

But Warlord Cack was at least wise-woke enough to know his own limitations, rare for a Skaven, and was humble-meek enough to actually ask others for advice in thinking of ideas.

Warlord Cack addressed his many chieftains in a curious squeak.

"Any-any ideas how we stop-prevent bad-evil Clan Veek from attacking us?," Warlord Cack asked.

The scrawny poo stained chieftains cocked their heads thinking, and Warlord Cack flicked his tail impatiently.

"What about we get-hire some strong-mighty help-help?," Chieftain Unchi suggested.

Warlord Cack twitched his whiskers, intrigued by this idea.

"Yes-yes! That's wise-smart!" Warlord Cack encouraged.

Chieftain Unchi noticeably preened in gratification at the praise from his warlord, and the other chieftains hurried to suggest things.

"Rat ogres!" Chieftain Tae suggested.

"Warp Lightning Cannons!" Chieftain Merde upped the ante.

"No-no, um, rat ogres *holding* warp lightning cannons!" Chieftain Paska ludicrously suggested hyperactively!

Warlord Cack bared his fangs in annoyance.

"We can't-can't afford those things! Rat ogres are *very-very* expensive, warp lightning cannons even more so! I want-need *cheap* options-ideas!" Warlord Cack snapped at the idiot-fools.

The chieftains he had scolded looked bitter at being criticised, and the others all cocked their heads thinking furiously.

"Cheap-cheap but deadly-effective?, What about an *old* rat ogre?," Chieftain Mal suggested.

Warlord Cack was intrigued, thinking about this.

"I have it! For the best-best value for money we need-need an old-retired Clan Eshin *Assassin*!" Chieftain Unchi said with triumphant insight.

"But what about an old rat ogre?," Chieftain Mal whined.

"Where-where we have room-space to *put* a rat ogre?, And what do we feed it?! Rat ogres eat a *lot-lot* and need *meat* not bread and mushrooms. And what if it gets sick-die, we will have wasted big-much food for something Clan Veek might kill-slay the first time," Chieftain Unchi countered.

Chieftain Mal lashed his tail at this, clearly not having thought-think of this.

"Would an assassin kill-slay the Clan Veek warlord for us?," Warlord Cack asked curiously.

"No-no, the assassin live here permanently-forever, we promise-give him lots-lots of free mushrooms to eat every day and let him breed-mate with all the breeders as much-much as he likes. An old-retired Clan Eshin assassin likely take-accept this offer. Then if we get attacked, he then sneaky-stealthy kill-slay Clan Veek club rats from the shadows unseen, till they run-flee away and not attack again," Chieftain Unchi explained gleefully.

Warlord Cack was really impressed.

"Will it be expensive?," Warlord Cack asked.

"For endless breeders and food he might-may even do it for free-free!" Chieftain Unchi said confidently.

Warlord Cack rubbed his paws together in glee.

***...

Hamato Yoshi the ancient-ancient (19 year old) Clan Eshin Assassin straightened his concealed blow darts and throwing stars, and twitched his whiskers uncertainly at the diabolical smell of his new "retirement home", this was not exactly the retirement residence he had had in mind...

"Breeders-breeders for you! *Thousands* of breeders, you can mate-sex with them all as much as you like-please!" His new host Warlord Cack offered enthusiastically, gesturing to lots of nearby breeders.

Hamato Yoshi's attention snapped alert at this, and he gazed at the breeders greedily...

Were they all *this* ugly?, Hamato wondered to himself apprehensively as he got a good look-smell at the breeders on offer.

"We feed-treat you all the mushrooms you can eat, we let you sleep anywhere you like-want, have sex-sex with all the breeders. You just kill-slay the bad-evil Skaven who invade our burrow," the rather unimpressive Warlord Cack said with feverish excitement.

"I shall not pursue-chase them if they leave-flee, I only defend *our* burrow when it is invaded," Hamato Yoshi said firmly.

"Yes-yes!" Warlord Cack nodded happily.

Hamato Yoshi nodded slowly in agreement.

"You have yourself a deal-bargain Warlord Cack Scattsnack," Hamato Yoshi bowed his head honourably.

Warlord Cack rubbed his paws together in delight.

Hamato Yoshi sighed and got started very carefully exploring the entire layout of his new home.

Hamato Yoshi was very old-old, one of the few-rare assassins to live to the old age of 19 years old. His formerly black fur was now grey-white, his formerly tight skin was wrinkled, and his muscles were wasted and weakened from old age.

Assassins as old and withered as Hamato were of no further use to Clan Eshin as assassins, the most politically highly placed of course had drugs-skalm to keep them young-strong forever, but this was rare-rare and Hamato Yoshi was but a lowly common assassin, not a clan high up.

Older assassins like Hamato Yoshi frequently found themselves murdered for their positions by jealous underlings if they didn't have the sense to retire from their positions, but retirement itself relegated the geriatric skaven to great indignity being bossed around and mocked by the younger assassins, denied access to breeders, and generally relegated to writing the occasional book as they waited for death to take them at around 20 years old on average!

Retired assassins who valued their dignity instead sought "retirement homes" in the burrows of other clans who would take them.

For a modest fee Clan Eshin would let another clan "purchase" any retired assassin who was interested in joining them, one last chance for Clan Eshin to cash grab before being rid of the expense of feeding and housing the retired geriatric, and then the assassin would spend the rest of their life in the care of the hosting clan.

Hamato Yoshi had had a few offers to choose from among potential host clans. Clan Weeaboo of course had wanted to host him for prestige reasons, but those shameless wannabe fools would have paraded him around in front of others, and hourly embarrassed him with their pathetic antics until the day he died! A few other clans had made offers, all desiring the prestige and bragging rights of being able to show off their very own retired assassin.

Clan Scattsnack had been different. They had actually respected him for his fighting skills rather than seeing him as a pet to parade around for bragging rights, and on top of that they had offered him free breeding access as much-much as he liked with over a *thousand* breeders for *the rest of his life*!

No red blooded skaven male would turn down unlimited free sex with a thousand females for the rest of their life, you would be mad-insane to turn that offer down! Clan Weeaboo had offered him mating access to a mere ten breeders, the other clans had offered less than ten breeders, but clan Scattsnack was offering a *thousand*!

Clan Scattsnack had actually been too poor-cheap to even pay the full modest fee to buy-purchase Hamato Yoshi from Clan Eshin, (they had only had just over a thousand tiny brass tokens, a pitiful pittance), but Hamato Yoshi had been so eager that he had used-given from his *own* life savings to help them afford him.

Hamato Yoshi was now having somewhat mixed feelings about his choice...

He had unlimited sex with over a thousand breeders for the rest of his life, that was true, but these breeders were some of the *ugliest* breeders he had ever seen in his life! Wasted sickly malnourished scrawny things, with udders that were somehow both saggy and small at the same time. They smelled really sick-ill...

The burrow itself was the worst squalor imaginable, but for the one saving grace that it at least had a rickety scaffolding poking up above the worst of the filth. Hamato had smelt human sewers that smelled far less bad-awful, this place smelled like the cesspit that other cesspits shitted in!

Hamato Yoshi was just grateful that they were offering him *mushrooms* to eat rather than the... Other, type of "food" the clan ate!

Hamato Yoshi shuddered and thanked the Horned Rat that this clan also grew mushrooms, at least the mushrooms were safe-clean to eat!

The drinking water was all carried into the burrow by runts with buckets, taken from safe-clean wells miles-far away. Hamato Yoshi had already sniff-tested the water for poison-infection a few minutes ago, and found it (barely) clean-safe enough to drink. The buckets smelled like they were frequently scrubbed-rubbed with salt to kill-slay infections, keeping them clean.

Hamato smelled a breeder on heat, and eagerly approached one of the breeders lounging on a plank platform on one of the scaffolds. The breeder was ugly, not the *most* ugly breeder in this burrow but still no beauty, her udders were small, her skin was bad-pocked, and her fur was damaged and filthy and full of fleas.

Hamato Yoshi was slightly repelled, but the erotic smell of a breeder on heat was still enough to get his rat-hood stiff-hard, and he silently came up behind her.

The breeder lazily raised her rear section up to be mated with when he gently touched her rump, her heat fuelled mating instincts compelling her to assume the mating position, if perhaps not very enthusiastically.

Hamato sniffed at the encouraging wetness of her breeding hole, and without further pause he inserted himself inside her and feverishly thrusted his hips in the instinctive mating behaviour of a skaven male.

Hamato felt his pleasure grow extremely intensely, and he squeaked in pleasure as he blissfully mated.

The breeder was squeaking in pleasure too, Hamato being much more well endowed than the feeble local males, and Hamato thrilled with gratification at her obvious pleasure at having a *real* male like him mating with her for a change.

Hamato squeaked shrilly as his pleasure peaked, and he inseminated the female with gasps of ecstasy.

Hamato separated from the female almost instantly, and simply parted ways with her, feeling no more interest until his mating organs recovered.

Hamato's reproductive organs had barely recovered before he was then gleefully mating with another female in heat, squeaking in orgasmic pleasure.

Hamato decided that a thousand breeders was *still* a thousand breeders, no matter what they looked like. He decided that he could probably accept this retirement home after all...

***...


End file.
